Chapter Fifty-Five: The Advisor

The instant Zhao Tianxing swung his blade, Vladimir could no longer suppress his terror. The overwhelming urge to survive crushed any hunger, and he recognized the flame buried deep within Zhao Tianxing’s eyes. A shudder from the depths of his soul drove him to a panicked flight. Instinctively, he fled in the opposite direction from Ji Ning and Qin Mo, sensing keenly that the man wielding the blade had already drawn a line of death. Perhaps there was a sliver of hope if he chose another escape route, but if he dared approach those two tempting, frail bodies, just the thought alone caused the killer’s intent to flare with lethal ferocity—his icy gaze stabbed toward Vladimir without mercy.

Vladimir’s senses screamed that his death was imminent. Before the blood in his veins could freeze with fear, he darted into the snowy night’s depths. It was not just strength, but also his cunning that had allowed him to become the head of the Black House of Hunters.

When the last Behemoth was impaled on the sword’s tip, its wailing fading to silence, Zhao Tianxing finally withdrew his blade. He surveyed the silent wasteland, the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood, his expression unwavering, his stance immovable as a mountain. Only after confirming that no living creature remained did he thrust his battered, nicked sword into the ground. No sooner had he released his grip than the sword, save for the tip buried in the earth, shattered into jagged fragments.

Qin Mo had already helped Ji Ning back into the vehicle. The four of them stared at Zhao Tianxing, transfixed.

This was a power beyond humanity—not accompanied by flowers or applause, but by pure, unadulterated violence and slaughter. Death clung to the back of every student from Deer Academy. The relentless snow fell upon his shoulders—a striking, chilling white. He was the rock amidst the raging tide; every storm broke before him. The flame that burned in his eyes seared itself into the soul of everyone present.

Glancing back at his younger peers huddled in the car, Zhao Tianxing took a step forward, only then recalling that his blood-soaked, battle-hardened appearance might be intimidating. He stopped, switched on his communicator, and waved at them, saying, “You can all head back first—I’ll change and catch up with you.”

He had barely turned when he sensed someone hurrying toward him. He felt no alarm, not even a hint of caution, and calmly turned.

Qin Mo, supporting Ji Ning, carefully skirted the twitching corpses—remnants of nervous reflexes after death—along with Afra and Katherine.

“Are you alright, senior? I have some tissues here—you should wipe the blood from your face.”

“Senior, are you hurt?”

“Why aren’t you coming with us? Your coat is in the car…”

“Come on, you have to come with us. My arm’s broken—it hurts like hell. Let’s go, hurry!”

Zhao Tianxing took the tissues and wiped his face. Looking at the worried faces of his younger schoolmates, his heart softened. He hid his slashed left hand behind his back and shook his head. “It’s not my blood.”

Though his words were calm, his face betrayed no emotion. He quickly checked Ji Ning’s injury and found it was nothing serious—just a dislocation. That eased his mind somewhat, though he wondered how a mere dislocation could cause someone to faint. It seemed he’d have to find time to teach him how to handle pain.

Once the Seekers of the Forgotten had finished clearing the battlefield and collecting data, and Zhao Tianxing had changed into a new coat, he followed behind his team. The moonlight spilled over the bloody river, and this time the shadow of the overseer was no longer alone.

Even after boarding the return flight, the fledgling fawns remained dejected. At least they had a report to submit—it wasn’t a total loss—but who would want their first team assignment to end in failure?

Zhao Tianxing, however, was unfazed. He pulled a notebook from his suitcase and began to write. It was an essential duty of a consultant to record assessments at the end of a mission.

Closing the notebook, he worked to keep his voice gentle as he spoke. “It’s alright—failure is perfectly normal. There’s no such thing as guaranteed success in this world. Even graduates can’t complete every assignment. At least you’re all safe. That’s already an achievement. Besides, we were targeted the moment we left the plane. A mission with such an information gap is nearly impossible to complete. I’ll write a detailed report for you, so Deer Academy can take that into account for your grades.”

For the first time, his voice carried warmth—perhaps a touch forced, but for someone as usually indifferent as Zhao Tianxing, it was as bright as sunlight, enough to dispel all gloom. To achieve this effect, the effort he gave to modulate his tone and control his expression was no less than what he’d spent annihilating the Flesh Cult that night.

Ji Ning, still crestfallen, hugged his travel pillow, staring at the clouds with Afra, who was equally downcast. “Failing the mission is one thing, but I maxed out my five-million credit card! I was planning to recoup the money from the Black House of Hunters after the mission. Damn it—leaving like this, I’m five million in the hole!”

Afra was no less aggrieved. “That five million was supposed to be our fun money after the mission! Damn, I’ve never even spent that much before!”

Zhao Tianxing shook his head, turning away from the two money-obsessed students to look at Katherine and Qin Mo.

Every time Qin Mo glanced at Ji Ning, her eyes grew brighter with tears. When he’d burst in shouting about his broken arm, she’d nearly cried right there. The hospital confirmed it was just a minor dislocation, and had they waited a bit, it might have popped back in on its own.

But that didn’t mean the risks they faced were any less. To fail a mission even under such danger, and for Deer Academy’s intelligence division to suffer a leak—what kind of mission assignment was that? Fuming, she scribbled furiously in her diary. Zhao Tianxing had no idea what she was writing, but from her puffed cheeks, it certainly wasn’t “Seven Happy Days in Russia.”

Katherine, on the other hand, showed little reaction—on the surface. But Zhao Tianxing noticed her fingers flying across her keyboard. One glance stunned him: this seemingly composed girl was filing a formal complaint to the Deer Academy’s Academic Office, arguing that the mission had failed due to a leak of their operational data. At the same time, she was attempting to hack into the office’s network, intending to trace the breach by backtracking the access logs.

In the end, it made sense. The mission’s failure stemmed from a security leak, costing them not just their capital but also their credits. As team leader, Katherine was certainly furious, and her extreme actions were understandable. As their consultant, it was now his duty to provide emotional support.

He approached Katherine from behind and spoke softly, “I have a temporary network key for the Academy’s Operations Division. You can skip a few layers of the firewall.”

He was a consultant for the Seekers of the Forgotten—not for Deer Academy.